The Broken Circle
by Pippa Spark
Summary: Has Tris been excluded from the circle - or, replaced? Set after 'The Will Of The Empress', ignoring 'Melting Stones'. Constructive criticism welcome - please R/R. On hiatus - too many fics, not enough time D:
1. Failure

**Author's note:**** Sorry, I know this starts off slowly. This is so that I can refresh people's memories of what happened in 'The Will of the Empress'. Chapter 2 will have more action, as there will be less thinking via Berenene to explain what everyone basically already knows :S … Actually, I think Chapter 3 will have the honour of hosting the first fight scene…bear with me :) **

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own any of the characters, locations etc. *sniff* But the plot is mine! (not that that is saying much but hey whatever :D ).**

*****

Berenene dor Ocmore's eyes glazed over as she stared at the pile of letters on the silver platter. _Wouldn't it be wonderful if looks could kill?_ She mused. _I could light those letters on fire and maybe, just maybe, I could reduce all my problems to a pile of ashes. _

Being an empress had its ups and downs. There were good times and bad times, plusses and minuses.

Berenene could handle this. After all, she had been in power for quite a while now. She was used to the routine, and took everything in her stride.

However, this was _really _pushing it. This was the biggest 'bad time' that she had ever experienced in all her time as an empress, as _the_ sole ruler of Namorn.

Sandrilene, Trisana, Daja, Briar. These four little people, barely adults, could cause real problems. This was exactly what they had done after she underestimated them.

She should have taken them more seriously. These four young mages, joined together as they were, could destroy whole armies. And, with the impending threat of war from Yanjing, Berenene could not afford to make mistakes.

_This was the first time_, thought Berenene, _and I will also make sure it was the last_.

Even the appearance of weakness could lead to downfall. She needed to prove that none could escape her, and that she could not be defied. She needed to prove that she was all-powerful once and for all.

The Yanjing emperor knew that there were holes in her armour, thanks to those four. Ever since they had left Namorn, the enemy was attacking her country's magical barriers at their borders with renewed gusto. No-one had the same fearful respect for her that they used to, and that fearful respect for her power and will was what had kept her in power for so long.

Now her people were even withdrawing their trust in her. They _doubted _her. They doubted _her_!

Several young ladies of her court had been taken home to their wealthy families, who feared that Berenene could not offer suitable protection for them. She had been suddenly swamped with letters of complaints about trivial affairs, none of which anyone would have dared raise with her until now. No-one had that fearful respect for her anymore. Her empire was falling apart.

These thoughts continued repeating themselves in her head. Berenene could feel herself falling into gloom. It was depressing.

Still, Berenene was determined to come out on top. All she needed was a plan.

Berenene's mood changed so swiftly, it was as if someone had flicked a switch. The pleasure of a challenge was a great way to stay occupied.

Her depression was replaced by determination. She _would_ win. She had to. She may have lost the battle, but she still hadn't lost the war.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

*********

**Yes, it was a slow start. I warned you, didn't I? :)**

**Now please review so that you can tell me what you think, I am interested in knowing. Plus, I'm not going to keep writing this if no-one wants to read it, so please express your ideas, expectations etc. and interest (if you have any :S).**

**Please put me on the right track or tell me if I'm already there, I just want to write a fic. that you guys want to read! :)**

**Thanks!**


	2. Plotting

**Well here is chapter 2. It's longer and maybe a little bit more interesting. Plus you begin to see how my summary links in with the story. I hope you like it! *****crosses fingers***** Feel free to give suggestions on how you want this fic. to be continued, because I admit I've only thought up to the end of chapter 4. :S**

*****

"Enter!" called Berenene in a strong, imperative voice. She wasn't about to let herself appear weak, even before her most trusted advisor.

"My lady?" inquired Ishabal Ladyhammer, as she stepped through the doorway. "I trust you recall that we arranged to meet this morning?"

"Of course I remember," replied Berenene scornfully. "I always keep my word."

"Naturally," adhered Ishabal. "May I be so bold as to ask why you have called for me? Is there a problem?"

"Yes, there is a problem!" snapped Berenene in an uncharacteristic show of temper. Her war-mage Ishabal recoiled slightly. "And that problem is also known as the four mages who visited us not so long ago!"

Ishabal wisely kept quiet as Berenene paused to take a breath before continuing.

"They have made a _fool_ of me! A fool of _me_!" Berenene threw her hands up in the air with exasperation. She began pacing round the room like a caged tiger. "No one respects me as they used to! My court and empire doubt me! The Yanjing emperor is no longer kept at bay – he thinks that I'm _weak_! I have not gained anything! Not one of the four stayed! And now _everyone_ believes that I've lost my edge."

"I still place my faith in you," said Ishabal tentatively.

"My thanks, Isha, but I was of course never in danger of losing your faith in the first place," replied Berenene confidently.

"My lady," stammered Ishabal nervously, "dare I ask if you feel that…well…" Her voice trailed off.

"Yes?"

"Have you grown weaker?"

Berenene inhaled sharply, and stopped pacing. Ishabal quavered at the thought that she had overstepped the line. In one smooth, swift movement, Berenene pulled out a hidden dagger from within the folds of her robes.

Ishabal tensed. She had never fought her mistress, and nor did she plan to – but in a life or death situation…well, that would be another story.

"Relax, Isha," murmured Berenene as she ran her long, fine, porcelain fingers across the length of the dagger's blade. She sighed, and the knife vanished as quickly as it had appeared. She continued talking.

"Those who are loyal to me are never in any danger. But as for those who believe that my time is over, and that my power is a thing of the past…" her voice lowered to a whisper, "…tell them that I still have one ace up my sleeve. Or quite possibly several." She raised both her head and her voice.

"Tell the court that Namorn's empress is far from beaten. Spread the news that my power is far from diminished, as is my all-seeing eye. Make certain all know that my bag of tricks is not yet empty."

Ishabal nodded quickly. She understood. "Of course, my lady, I am forever in your service."

"I expected nothing less."

"Do you have a plan?"

"It may need some fine-tuning, but yes, I believe that I do."

"Who or what is its focus? Will you try and make Lady Sandrilene return to Namorn again?"

"No, she is not my focus this time. I am honestly far more intrigued by Trisana Chandler, the little weather-witch. And, Isha, I will not_ try _to bring her here, I will _succeed _in bringing her here."

"What role will she play in your plan? And why _her_? I dare say she is by far the most dangerous of the four."

"Do I hear fear in your voice, Isha?" demanded Berenene.

"Those four are not to be underestimated, least of all Trisana. We underestimated them last time, and I do not wish to suffer the consequences of our mistake again. You remember that I was stripped of my magic?"

"Yes. And, with the help of Quenaill and my other mages, you have regained your powers. You are at your full strength. Correct?"

"Yes, but -"

"Then I do not see the problem."

"My lady, because of those four, I was stripped almost completely of my magic. It has been nearly two years since that happened. I have only recently regained my full strength, and that was with much help from others, like Quenaill, and his friends at the Lightsbridge Mage University."

"But you have recovered," countered Berenene, "and now that we have learnt not to underestimate our enemy, we will be more cautious. By taking the right precautions, I have no doubt that all will go to plan."

Ishabal did not feel on the same page as Berenene when it came to this 'plan'. "Would you mind refreshing my memory on this plan?" she inquired.

"Certainly. It is simple, but it will also be very effective. I, admittedly, was thwarted by the so-called 'circle' – or those four mages, young but yet so powerful. They didn't wish to take their place in my plans. Sandrilene left with the others, against my will, leaving Ambros fer Landreg as a _Cleham_!"

Ever calm, Ishabal tried to placate the empress. "At least all of the fer Landreg riches will stay in Namorn", she commented.

"Yes, however _my_ _will_ was _defied_! We are looking at a bigger picture now, Isha, which calls for a bigger plan! Before, all I had to worry about was whether or not Sandrilene would bring her wealth to Namorn. Now my entire reputation as an empress, and of my will of iron, hangs by a thread!"

Berenene thumped her clenched fist down onto her desk. Ishabal watched the rippling ink in the inkpot. Berenene continued talking.

"You may be wondering why I am focusing on Trisana Chandler, and what I wish to do once I have her.

"Trisana Chandler is a weather-witch of extraordinary powers, for which I can think of many uses. She would make an exceptional war-mage. We could end our war with the Yanjing emperor almost instantly if she ought on our side.

"I am no longer interested in Sandrilene fa Toren. She no longer has riches within my reach, and her powers with thread appear weak to me. Thread mages have limits with what thy can do with their powers. If the enemy took the right precautions for an encounter with a stitch-witch…the mage's powers would be rendered useless.

"As for Daja Kisubo and Briar Moss, they are like Sandrilene. Their magic has definite limits. Fire and metal are Daja's focus, and her powers are very limited to those two tings. As for Briar, he can only control plants, and a plant-mage can be destroyed all too easily.

"Despite what I have just said, I acknowledge how much power they have. But their powers were combined when they were younger during a time of need – they were trapped in a cave during an earthquake. The four's powers were fused together, and the strength of each power was magnified. They became a circle."

"My lady, together they are simply too strong for us to hold any threat over them."

"You said it yourself, Ishabal." Berenene smiled menacingly, a hint of what was to occur next. "_Together_, they are too strong. But if they became separated…" The idea hung in the air.

"I see…" breathed Ishabal.

"I have set my sights on Trisana, the most powerful of them all. She shall be the one taken from their circle, therefore breaking it. The four's powers will become diminished, and they will become four ordinary mages, nothing more.

"Even though Trisana's powers will be diminished along with the others, she is still an exceptional mage regardless. She has enough power on her own to help us make a real difference to the outcome of this war between Yanjing and ourselves. As for the other three, well…They will not be strong enough to stop us from taking her."

"Your plan makes perfect sense, my lady. Especially as bringing one of the four here will prove that you cannot be defied, and that you are still as strong as you always have been. It will also lower the enemy's morale."

"Exactly", Berenene confirmed calmly, glad that her head-mage understood and agreed with her plan.

But there was still one question in Ishabal's mind.

"How do you propose we kidnap Trisana, her being so powerful?"

"We have the element of surprise. Trisana is currently residing at the mages' university of Lightsbridge – which is incidentally the university attended previously by Quenaill and some of our other mages. If they simply arrived there one day, it would be considered very ordinary, and they would be inconspicuous. A few spells to cripple weather magic or a magical prison to contain it could easily restrain Trisana if the attack was unexpected. Then they run. As soon as Quenaill and the others cross the border into Namorn, they will be under my protection, and whether Briar, Daja and Sandrilene like it or not, they will not be able to enter my lands in order to steal Trisana back, or pick a fight with us."

"Would you like me to inform Quenaill of your plan, Majesty?"

"Yes. Tell him to carry it out as quickly and as effectively as possible."

"Certainly. And…my lady?"

"Yes, Isha?

"What are your full plans for Trisana, once she is here, in Namorn?"

"We can discuss that another time. First, let Trisana be brought to me. We will burn one bridge at a time."

*****

**Thanks for reading! Now please tell me what you think and review…please? *****fails miserably at puppy eyes*** **Next chapter will be about Tris's kidnapping, and will have even more action than the first two chapters, in which Berenene has a rant and paces her study! Yay :P**


	3. Lightsbridge

Lightsbridge was like a second home to Quenaill. Maybe it was because he had boarded there for so long.

Lightsbridge had been built on the remains of an old castle, or fortress. To avoid attack, it had been built on a large island made solely of rocks. It was basically only accessible by sea. Boats travelled regularly past its formidable grey stone walls, as Lightsbridge was located a mere one and a half hours or so off the coast of Emelan, to the east of the island of Hajur.

_It's taken barely a week of hard travel – with, of course, a touch of magic to help push us along – to reach Lightsbridge_, reflected Quenaill. _And with that little trick that Isha's got up her sleeve, it'll take far less time to get home. _

As they approached the University, Quenaill admired its structure, the same way that he always did. Lightsbridge was impenetrable. It technically had the entire Pebbled Sea as its moat, and an attacker wouldn't last long enough outside to be able to find the cleverly disguised entrance.

The entrance was made for stealth, but was heavily fortified. Lightsbridge University's security had gained a reputation, and pirates hardly ever even contemplated attacking it nowadays. Some of the spells protecting it were legendary. A fortress which in itself was an amazing defence, now filled to the brim with mages...Quenaill smiled. It was his type of place.

The boat containing Quenaill and his three companions approached the entrance. They needed no guide, having entered Lightsbridge many times before. The secret of the entrance was this: it changed places. Some ingenious mage, many years ago in the times of Lady Nefatari the Cruel, must have created an entrance which only mages could find. A mage would throw out their power against the walls, and feel for the entrance, disguised to look like any other part of the wall. The gatekeeper inside would asses whether the mage, and those accompanying him, were friends or otherwise. If they were friends, the gatekeeper would allow them to come round to the entrance. The wall would vanish, revealing an iron gate, which would then be opened to allow the friends inside.

However, if they were enemies, they would either be disposed of by mages standing on the walls or by the windows, or they would come up to the wall which would not disappear, but radiate such heat or cold, depending on the mage's greater weakness, that it would burn or freeze the enemies alive.

Quenaill and the other three passed through the entrance. They tethered their boat to a post by the edge of the pool that reached inside the fortress. Not planning on having to stay for too long, they had packed lightly: one small satchel each. They carried these up the impressive stone steps leading to the doors to the University's main hall.

The huge iron doors, elaborated with fine strands of gold, opened to reveal a giant circular entrance hall embellished to the highest degree, with many passages leading off it.

"Ah! Quenaill! My great friend!" exclaimed a short, pale mage, as he dashed across the marble floor. "It has been too long!"

"Quite", replied Quenaill, turning his lips up into a polite smile. "Allow me to introduce my companions. Uliam, meet my former classmate, _Viynain _Ronani Hawkfeather, a gifted bird speaker."

Uliam Mahar shook hands briefly with Ronani, who he dwarfed completely. Despite his short black hair and dark tanned skin, adapted to hot temperatures, Uliam was in fact an ice-mage. His power was basic, but could be very destructive.

Quenaill briefly introduced his other two companions to his watery-eyed 'friend'. Chanok Gu was the specialist glass mage, the youngest of them all at nineteen years of age. His grey eyes showed no emotion. Having spent most of his life indoors, his skin was even paler than his white blonde hair.

The last mage, Nafir Oakmann, was the wild card of the group. No one really knew quite what went on behind those dark eyes of him. Short and slightly underfed looking, with brown skin and black hair, he never struck people as a powerful mage – more a lost child. He looked younger than his years. Figuring out his power was tricky; no one could tell quite what it was. But if one thing was for sure, whenever Nafir was around, things never went quite the way they were expected to – for better or for worse.

"So, welcome back, all of you! Former students…this is like a school reunion!" chortled Ronani, as he led them towards the imposing stairs. There were in fact two staircases, both which looped around evenly to meet as a large balcony.

"Here, follow me, I'll show you where you rooms are." continued Ronani.

At that moment, a short, plump girl opened one of the doors at the top of the stairs, and walked out onto the balcony. Her red hair was tightly braided, and her clothes looked very practical. She was carrying a pile of books so tall that her glasses were almost balancing on the top one.

When Tris spotted Quenaill and his group, a dozen or so heavy tomes bit the dust.

*****

**You're probably thinking 'so much for the promised fight scene', or 'so much for 'next chapter will be about Tris's kidnapping''. I simply decided to write what I thought would be one chapter as several. I apologise; be patient! **

**Please R/R!**

**- Pippa - **


	4. Quenaill

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed or put this fic. on story alert etc…It's encouraging and means a lot to me. Have a virtual hug and Chapter 4!**

*****

_Quenaill!_

Briar jumped out of his skin, and accidentally cut off several promising buds from the rosebush he was pruning. The plant's thorns bit into his hand in vengeance. Briar swore, and sucked at his hand.

_Quenaill! What in the names of all our gods – _

_He's here!_ interrupted Tris._ He's here at Lightsbridge!_

_What?!_ exclaimed Briar, astounded.

_I'm telling you, he's here! I can see him! Quenaill Shieldsman standing less than twenty paces away from me!_

_Quenaill Shieldsman! That lowlife scum! How dare he show his face! _Daja joined the conversation. Tris heard the bang from Daja dropping her hammer, despite the many miles that separated them.

_Pardon?!_ demanded Sandry in alarm._ Quenaill?_ She put down her embroidery.

The four could communicate telepathically. They shared each other's eyes and ears. They were a Circle.

In times like these, telepathy was a pretty useful skill.

_What do you mean? _Briar asked Tris. _Is he threatening you?_

_I'm as lost as you are_, replied Tris._ Keep watching. I'm going to find out what's going – _

"Trisana Chandler!" All four of them heard a booming voice from Tris's end of their link.

_Be careful!_ warned Sandry, half-pleading.

_I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself_, replied Tris huffily. _Now shut up, all of you. There's some stuff I need to deal with over here… _

*****

**Yes it was short. I'm sorry! This practically half-chapter is only here to introduce the telepathic communication of the Circle. Sadly, the next chapter may be quite short as well…but then it will take less time to write, and the story will be updated more quickly. There you go! I just found you a silver lining :)**

**Make my day and review please. Reviews make me happy! :D**


	5. Fake Smiles

"Trisana Chandler!" All four of them heard a booming voice from Tris's end of their link.

_Be careful!_ warned Sandry, half-pleading.

_I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself_, replied Tris huffily. _Now shut up, all of you. There's some stuff I need to deal with over here… _

Tris ended the conversation abruptly as she heard the irritated voice.

"Miss Chandler! I really must insist! Those books you _were_, may I repeat _were_ carrying are very valuable to our university's library! They are to be respected and treated with care at all times!"

The elderly professor surveyed Tris with a look of distaste as she scrabbled around on the floor, gathering up the books, smoothing out pages and caressing damaged spines.

"Honestly, Miss Chandler, you are not at Winding Circle anymore! This is the Lightsbridge University for the Gifted! We will not tolerate mistreatment of materials or suchlike here! Oh no! Not here! It is time for you to grow up, Miss Chandler; you are not at Winding Circle anymore!"

The repetitive lecture stopped suddenly. "I expect to see you in class in exactly fifteen minutes, and not one second more!" The bossy wizard sniffed and strode off down the curved steps, continuing into one of the passages leading off the entrance hall.

Tris finished picking up the fallen books; she stacked them into a tall pile, and attempted to lift them. The top book teetered before falling towards the ground.

Quenaill, who had been inching closer to Tris, leant over and caught it before it hit the ground for the second time. He placed it carefully on top of the stack that Tris was holding. It half-obscured her face, but Quenaill could still read her expression. Tris regarded him suspiciously.

"Long time, no see, correct, my dearest _Viymese_?" Quenaill's voice dripped with false affection.

"Oh, and have you missed me?" asked Tris sarcastically, before cutting to the chase. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Why, Miss Chandler, Have you forgotten? Lightsbridge is my old university. It is like my second home." Quenaill smiled a broad, insincere smile.

"I'm sure you're already missing your despicable mistress," commented Tris tactlessly, "too much length of the leash isn't as much fun as it's said to be, right?"

Quenaill's fake smile faltered momentarily. Being compared with a dog didn't exactly stoke his ego.

"Now tell me why you're here", Tris demanded bluntly.

"I am here to collect some of the library's rarest books to bring back to the Empress. I will be staying for only a short while, although my…friends may be staying for longer. They'll be catching up with friends and suchlike."

"…I see", replied Tris after some hesitation. She was clearly unsure of what to think."

"Miss. Chandler!" called out a passing mage. "Whatever will we do with you? You are late for class – again!"

Tris blanched, muttered a curt goodbye to Quenaill, and fled, as the other mage smirked.

_Well_, thought Quenaill with pleasure, _this'll be easier than I thought. Trisana obviously has no friends here, so no one will notice when she is gone. And even if they did notice, no one would care enough to investigate her disappearance. Yes, this simply couldn't be better._

*****

**This was a slightly longer chapter…the next one should be longer still! Please R/R, and thankyou to those who have! **


	6. Silence in the Library

**Here is a really long chapter (by my standards anyway) to make up for all the short ones you've had to put up with. Enjoy!**

*****

Tris rubbed her eyes. This made her glasses greasy, and while she cleaned them she stared blearily at the large ornate clock on the wall. She could see it was there, but as for telling the time – Tris put her glasses back on.

_Oh great_, thought Tris grumpily. It was 1.30am. She was having another late night, or early morning; Tris didn't care which way she looked at it. Either way, she was _tired_.

She yawned, not bothering to cover her mouth. It wasn't like there was anyone in the library at this time, but even if there had been, Tris wouldn't have masked her yawn. Being rude and surly was a must – she had to keep up her reputation.

_Nearly done now_, she thought, trying to refocus on her work. She, Trisana Chandler, weather witch extraordinaire, had been given homework. She had to write an essay worth two foot of parchment by tomorrow! _Although_, Tris corrected herself grumpily, as she glanced again at the golden clock, _I guess the deadline's now today._

She turned again to her essay on the history of mages in the Battle Isles, specifically the Isle of Laera._ Essays on magic are so pointless_, thought Tris, _instead of doing this, I could be practicing control, or meditating. Or, better yet, sleeping. I never would've come to Lightsbridge if I'd known you got homework for courses. It's not like I don't already have my mage's medallion. Heck, I got it ages ago! _

_But Niko said it would be good for you to try a course at Lightsbridge!_

_Well, hello Sandry,_ replied Tris dryly,_ welcome to my mind. I trust you can find your way about._

_Very funny_, retorted Sandry. _But seriously, what's gotten you all depressed? You should get some sleep._

_It would seem I'm not the only one awake_, said Tris glancing at the clock. 1.50am! _What's keeping you up?_

Tris felt Sandry blush as she hurriedly retreated from Tris's mind. _'Night!_ She called, and cut the connection. Tris was left, the silence of dead air filling the space where Sandry had been.

She allowed herself a small, evil cackle out loud. _Well, it would seem that _someone_'s hiding something – or should I say 'someone'?_

That was the best thing about having no love life. You could watch on and laugh at everyone else's without having to worry about your own.

_Okay! Focus! FOCUS!_ Tris chided herself. _You have to have this stupid assignment done by 6.00am! _There was another thing that Tris didn't like about Lightsbridge University: why did they feel the need to start every lesson at what Tris considered to be the crack of dawn?

But, as Sandry had pointed out, Niko had said that Lightsbridge would be a good experience for Tris. And, as much as Tris was loathed to admit it, she _was_ learning new things – like how to melt ice. But how in Mila's name would she need _that_ skill in Summersea, the city who's temperature lives up to its name?

Tris scrawled a few more lines at the bottom of the page. There! Two feet of parchment! Take that! Who says Tris Chandler can't write essays! So the writing was large and loopy; Tris was sure that no one would notice.

The golden clocked chimed twice. It was 2.00am. The regularly polished gold hand slid across the creamy face of the clock. There was another thing about Lightsbridge that Tris disliked: everything was clean and in order, and all of the students took themselves too seriously. It was a total snob school. Tris felt a pang of homesickness. She missed Winding Circle.

Now to go back to her room – another thing Tris disliked. It was on the _bottom floor_. A room at the top of a tower would've been ideal: Tris loved heights. She saw and heard more. The highest room of the tallest tower…if only Tris was a princess from a fairytale. She felt that heights nurtured her magic.

Tris picked up her assignment, and stood up. Her chair squeaked against the highly polished wooden floor. She held her breath, feeling guilty for disturbing the silence. All was silent in the library, so silent, in fact, that the hairs on the back of Tris's neck stood up.

However, Tris quickly regained her composure. She wasn't silly enough to tell herself that 'there's no such thing as ghosts' – after all, when you're dealing with magic, who knows? – and so contented herself by muttering "It's not like anyone's here".

Naturally, Quenaill stepped out of the shadows. "Hello, dearest _Viymese_."

Tris jumped a foot in the air, and came close to dropping her belongings like the last time they had met.

"Why are you here?" she demanded, feeling dreadfully suspicious, her senses screaming at her to run away.

"Is that a way to greet an old friend?" asked Quenaill, a soft smile playing about his lips.

"'Friend'?" Tris left the word hanging. "Speak for yourself."

"Fine." The fake friendliness vanished. "I can see you don't trust me."

"Well, that's for obvious reasons. After all, you have just shown me your second face."

The face in question twisted in anger. "It's obvious you won't come quietly. Have it your way then." Quenaill raised his arms. He began to glow, his lips forming words soundlessly – no doubt the words of an intricate spell.

Tris stumbled back. She couldn't just sense danger: she could see it with her own eyes. To complete the scene, Uliam Mahar, Chanok Gu, and Nafir Oakmann were walking slowly but steadily towards her, trying to herd her into a corner.

Tris swore as a flash of silver light illuminated the aisle between the bookshelves that she had begun to run down. She could hear the heavy footsteps of her adversaries behind her, and she rolled as a streak of purple fire hit the bookshelf next to her. A dozen or so books came raining down.

However, none of them hit Tris. With a glare, she made the air above her become solid. Upon hearing her pursuers once again, she slid out from underneath her shield, and tried to manipulate the air currents to her will. But nothing happened. With a shiver of dread, Tris remembered closing the windows to keep out the cold. The air in this room was still and undisturbed to the highest degree. It could not help her.

A bead of sweat ran down Tris's forehead as she dashed through the endless aisles of books. She hadn't had this much exercise in ages! She resolved to become fitter – well, once she got out of this mess.

Tris reached up to undo her braided hair, the braids that contained her power. _Let's see how they like lightning_, thought Tris vindictively.

But at that moment, her braids became stiffer. She ran a trembling finger along them, and realised that they were coated in ice. The sweat running through her hair had been frozen by the ice mage. She gasped with shock and horror.

A mocking laugh sounded from the next aisle. Uliam Mahar, the ice mage, was laughing at _her_. He thought that _she _was _done for_. Tris scowled. She'd show him!

She began by throwing her considerable weight against the spindly bookshelf. It teetered, and began to fall.

_Who needs magic when you can do this?_

Uliam screamed as hundreds of books poured off their shelves to fall onto him. He curled up on the floor, covering his head as the books' leather bound covers pounded his back. Soon he lay still, unconscious.

After the first shelf had fallen, the rest followed its lead. A domino effect was created – but on a much larger scale than the norm. Tris stood stock still, panting, but quite pleased with the destruction she had caused within this most despised university.

Then the smile was wiped from her face as her vision became distorted. Then she realised that the problem wasn't her vision: the floor was rippling as if it was made of water.

_Quenaill! You - ! _She swore as bile rose to her throat, the feeling of seasickness bearing down on her. Then she found more pressing issues than her heaving stomach. It was raining.

Raining. Raining? Raining _glass_.

It was Chanok Gu's turn to get into her bad books. The glass mage destroyed the face of the magnificent clock overlooking the library, showering Tris with glass. Windows smashed to her left. Tris ducked behind one of the fallen bookshelves, shielding her face.

However, the broken windows had played in Tris's favour. A strong ocean breeze was let in, which Tris soon turned to her own uses. She grunted as she threw a multitude of glass shards back towards Chanok to her left. Not expecting his own work to be turned against him, he failed to duck in time. The pieces of glass swept by: the wind knocked him over, and the glass gave him scratches that he wouldn't be forgetting in a hurry.

Tris focused on the two mages, Quenaill and Nafir, to her right. She drove the wind and glass towards them. Miraculously, they were not hit by a single flying glass shard, and the strong current of wing barely even made them move.

This amazing luck unnerved Tris, and she began to run again, feeling exposed with nothing shielding her from the other two. But thing simply weren't going her way. As she ran, she looked back over her shoulder to see where the others were placed, and at that very moment, she tripped over Chanok Gu, who had been lying on the floor nursing his injuries.

As she lay on the floor beside her, he reached over with a bloodied hand, and grabbed her wrist in a grip of iron. It would seem capturing the one who had injured him was more important than nursing the injuries that she had inflicted upon him. He prevented her from getting up.

The next second, Tris was looking up into the faces of Quenaill Shieldsman and Nafir Oakmann. In an act of defiance, she tried to spit in their faces, but that was impossible when lying on her back, pinned to the ground.

"You're embarrassments to your empress, you know," remarked Tris, "if the only way you can pin me down is in a four on one match." She smirked.

Quenaill laughed, but there was no humour in his voice. "We weren't willing to take any chances with you, Miss Chandler. Let it be a compliment."

"Humph. Luck was on your side."

"Well, that is the way Nafir likes it."

Tris was puzzled at first, and then it dawned. "That mage has power over _luck_?! No fair!"

Quenaill chose that moment to invoke a cliché. "Life isn't fair."

"Oh, shut up," mumbled Tris, determined to have the last word.

"You really must learn to improve your manners, Miss Chandler."

"Well, it's not like I'm speaking with anyone important."

Quenaill glared at her. Tris smiled sweetly – mockingly.

"In fact, _Viymese_, you _will_ be speaking to someone of great importance, very, very soon."

"Oh really", spat Tris, "who?"

"She is in fact the most important person in the empire of Namorn." Quenaill averted his eyes and fiddled with the hem of his sleeve, fully aware of the impact of his wards.

Tris's eyes widened. "No."

Quenaill scooped her up into his arms as if she was but a little girl, and carried her over to the window. He pointed out into the darkness.

"She is waiting for you."

Then he threw Tris out of the window.

*****

**As always, please R/R, and thankyou to those who have!**

**- Pippa -**


	7. The Scream

**This is a RIDICULOUSLY short chapter, so I'm very, very sorry! I just felt like jotting down a few words when I didn't have much time, and then I decided it was time for this story to resurface. So I've published this incredibly short chapter, as it is. Please don't eat me :)**

*****

The cold sea breeze rushed past Tris's face. This woke her from her momentary unconsciousness, due to shock.

Waves licked the hard stone walls of the university, and sea spray wet the young mage's cheeks as she hurtled towards a bottomless ocean, razor sharp rocks, and certain death.

As would do anyone in her situation, she screamed. The sound of pure terror lasted no more than a split second, before it and its maker were lost in a flash of light.

The scream, however, had lasted for just long enough to wake up three people who were at such a distance from Lightsbridge that no ordinary scream could reach their ears. In the heat of the moment, Tris's fright had not only been screamed with her voice, but also with her mind.


End file.
